


Things I Never Knew (Til I Knew You) or Why Zombies Don't Wear Glitter

by Shakespeares_Girl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Glam Rock RPF, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Apocalypse, Gen, M/M, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shakespeares_Girl/pseuds/Shakespeares_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Zombieland"/"28 Days Later" fusion.  When Tommy picks up a hitcher in the middle of an apocalyptic wasteland, he gets more than he bargained for, including a flat tire and a pair of monster-hunting brothers with more co-dependency and sibling rivalry issues than you can shake a stick at.  Then again, who's gonna turn down the chance to torment someone with glitter, even if they're in the middle of a zombie attack?</p><p>(This was written for au_bingo on livejournal.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“No names,” Tommy growls, glaring hard at the glittery man who just climbed into his truck and introduced himself as “Adam Lambert.”

“Fuck that,” Adam says, grinning wide and damn, if this was a toothpaste commercial, Adam would definitely be the “after picture” with the little sparkly twinkle glinting off his teeth. “I did not spend the last five years of my life establishing a fanbase just so I could throw it all away due to some stupid Zombie virus apocalypse thing.”

As far as descriptions of what’s happening to the world go, Tommy’s heard worse. “Fine. Fuck you too. Sit over there and don’t make noise.”

The not making noise part of the command lasts about five seconds before Adam is humming under his breath. Tommy decides to let discretion be the better part of valor and not mention it. But then Adam starts whispering lyrics. Tommy clears his throat, but apparently this does not translate into whatever language Adam speaks, because instead of silence, the other man busts into a full-throated belt. And oh my god, he’s singing Wicked. Someone needs to shoot one of them now, and put the other out of their misery.

“Seriously?” Tommy demands. “Broadway. That’s what you come up with when I tell you to be quiet?”

“What’s wrong with Broadway?”

“It’s about the gayest, most noisy thing in the entire world.”

Adam looks strangely upset about this. “It used to be. Now I’m the gayest, most noisy thing in the entire world.”

“Oh,” Tommy says, because yeah, New York is pretty much dead now, with only a few lucky people hiding out very wisely in the tops of skyscrapers, refusing to come down or let others up. There are no more bright lights, no more songs, no more dancing chorus girls. There’s just empty theaters, and really, even though Tommy fucking hates New York, it was god damn depressing when he’d been driving through. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I kind of always wanted to be the biggest and brightest. Just wish it wasn’t this way, you know?” Adam cheers up when this thought occurs to him. “So, if you don’t want me to sing Broadway, what should I sing?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, come on. There must be some sort of music you like. And don’t even go there with the no there isn’t that I can see waiting on your tongue.”

“You can’t see my tongue, my mouth is closed.”

If the argument about physical versus metaphorical tongues that follows is any indication, the sooner he ditches Adam, the big glittery Broadway substitute, the better. They stop at a convenience store, and Tommy thinks really hard about the ethics of leaving someone like this alone in the middle of the Midwest, and whether or not zombies are bigoted enough to gang up on the gay boy, but eventually he decides that as much as he hates the guy, he can’t just leave his sparkly ass to get eaten by Zombies. So he regretfully loads Adam, half the store’s supply of junk food, and a slurpee into his truck and drives off again.

They’re passing through Ohio on their way to Seattle, Washington--because apparently Adam’s always wanted to go up on the space needle and now’s his chance, yeah?--when they practically total the truck. Tommy would just like to say that it was not his fault, the fresh zombies totally look like normal humans, okay? Moral of the story, the truck is trashed, and Adam and Tommy are stuck battling off the gruesome brutes until the zombies give up (unlikely) or manage to kill Adam and Tommy (which is the expected outcome).

Neither of them--or the zombies, either, Tommy guesses--is expecting it when a black, ‘67 Chevy Impala roars up, windows rolled down and blasting “Rock of Ages” louder than is safe for eardrums. They’re expecting it even less when the guys who get out competently and efficiently take out the fifteen zombies attacking Tommy and Adam.

“Yes!” the shorter one fist pumps and turns to his partner. “That brings my total kill count to an even three hundred.”

“Oh, shut up, you suck, and since when? You only had two-fifty last I checked,” the man’s taller partner argues. If Tommy knew them better he might have called the taller man’s tone “bitchy.”

“Yeah, two-fifty, plus the ten outside the rest stop in Peoria, the seven in the diner, two in the Ace Hardware, and like, thirty while you were passed out in the back seat driving through Michigan. I’m so ahead of you, it’s not even funny.”

“Dean, that doesn’t even add up to--”

“Um, nice as it is to see some other humans who aren’t flesh eating monsters, we’d really appreciate it if you stopped arguing and helped us hot-wire a car, okay?” Tommy interrupts them.

“Oh. Right.” The tall one elbows his partner in the ribs. “Dean. Do something.”

“Oh, so I have to do something. Yes, princess, whatever you say,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I guess you guys can come with us. We’ll take you to Singer Auto Salvage, there should be a car you can take there. Bobby’s usually got two or three in fairly decent condition.”

Before Tommy can even ask where this Singer’s Auto Salvage is, Adam’s jumping into the back seat of their car and chattering about a mile a minute about how awesome it is to meet people who obviously have good taste in music. Tommy realizes that “Rock of Ages” has morphed into “You Shook Me All Night Long,” and that really, if Adam likes this music, maybe he’s not as bad as Tommy might have thought. But still, good music is no reason to hook up with someone you met two minutes ago, and who is obviously better at killing things than you are.

“We really couldn’t accept,” comes out of Tommy’s mouth at the same time that tall and nameless says “Dean! We can’t take them with us!”

“God, Sammy!” Dean huffs, as Adam choruses “Why not?”

Oh, this is going to be great fun.

***

After a three hour argument--most of which was spent on the road--between Sam and Dean about whether or not they should bring Tommy and Adam along, it was decided that they’d figure things out when they got to Bobby’s.

Whoever Bobby was, Tommy hoped he lived somewhere close by, and had Twinkies, because the stupid zombies had smushed all the ones he’d grabbed at the convenience store when they’d attacked. When Tommy voices this opinion, Sam starts laughing like a maniac, and Dean grins.

“Twinkies, no. Close by, sort of. He’s in South Dakota. We can get there in a day and a half if we drive straight through,” Dean explains.

“WHAT?” Tommy practically jumps out the open window, because Adam just shrieked loud enough not only to be heard over the too-loud sound of Survivor rocking out on “Eye of the Tiger” but loud enough to drown it out. And he’s sitting right next to Tommy, so really, not fair. “An entire day and a half without--without--”

Tommy’s kind of curious what Adam’s going to complain about. Food, sex, bathrooms and being able to stretch his legs all come to mind. Adam’s legs are nearly as long as Sam’s are, and Sam’s like, the absolute tallest guy Tommy’s ever seen. Well, up close, anyway. But when Adam whines and says sulkily, “I have to shower regularly, you don’t understand, my skin care regimen, I can’t afford to lose a day. And how am I supposed to cleanse in a car? Really? I can barely put eyeliner on in a rearview mirror, I am not exfoliating in here too.”

Sam and Dean both look completely stunned. Finally Sam says “He’s worried about skin care, Dean,” in a voice that suggests maybe Sam’s gone crazy.

“I heard,” Dean nods agreeably. “Guess we’ll stop at a hotel.”

“But Dean, we can’t stop, what about the zombies! Besides, Bobby’s expecting us, and we can’t just show up late,” Sam protests.

Adam huffs from beside Tommy, and Dean’s eyes flicker to the backseat for an instant before he turns to Sam and says, “Dude. He’s taller than me in those boots of his, and he wears glitter. I’m not fucking with that.”

Sam makes this absolutely hilarious noise, half between a squeak, a huff and a word similar to “fuck,” and Tommy gets it. Dean doesn’t care one way or the other, but Sam does, and Dean’s job in life seems to be to antagonize Sam at every turn. Tommy grins. “I happen to agree with Dean and Adam,” he says, “for the record. I don’t wanna be all crammed into a car with three guys I barely know for any longer than five hours or so without a break. Plus, a shower would be really epic.”

Adam smiles at him, this absolutely mushy smile, like he’s just found his best friend holding a puppy or something, and Tommy rolls his eyes. “Also? I wanna stop at a drugstore.”

Dean grins a little and smirks, but nods. Sam makes that weird noise that no human should be able to force out of their throats, and Tommy leans back. This is going to be a really interesting ride.

***

Dean performs a perfect bootlegger turn into a motel parking lot about two hours later, shuts off the engine and declares, “Okay boys, this is it for the night. I’ll go steal us some keys, and Sam can take you down to the drugstore on the corner.”

Sam holds out his hand like he wants the keys, but Dean just looks at him. “No. You can walk,” he says.

There’s a moment of silent argument, which gets carried out through posture and minuscule changes in eyebrow position, and then Sam turns and snaps, “This way.”

He leads them to a Walgreens. Tommy smiles and browses through the shelves, pushing a cart ahead of him. He takes a bunch of totally random shit that he knows will drive Sam nuts--because hey, anything he can do to help Dean out, you know?--and fills most of his cart with Twinkies. Then he goes down the health and beauty aisle, partly because Adam’s there and Tommy wants to know what he’s up to, and partly to be an annoying fuck and go down ever aisle in the store. Tommy adds some eyeliner and nail polish to his cart before he gets up to Adam.

Adam looks at him, blue eyes big and sad. “They don’t carry MAC,” he sighs. “I wonder if there’s a Sephora in this town?”

Tommy shrugs. “Don’t know. But I use Rimmel sometimes. You know, when I have money for it, or whatever.”

The blue eyes light up at this, and Adam goes past Tommy to the Rimmel section. There’s a loud exclamation of joy and Tommy turns to see Adam testing a lip gloss in the tiny make-up mirror attached to the display. “Have you tried these colors?” he demands.

Tommy shrugs. To be honest, he isn’t much of a lip gloss guy. “Not really. Good?”

“Oh my God, it’s a revelation. You have no idea.” Adam goes back to his lip gloss and Tommy heads toward the section with the hair dye. He’s not really sure if he’s gonna get any, but every now and then he just feels the urge to look, so he does, and he sees the wanna-be punk rock color kits, with names like “Blue Electricity” and “Marvelous Magenta.” He takes a couple packages and adds them to his cart, sneaking a sidelong glance at Sam, who seems to be both confused and near apoplectic that they’re taking so long in the cosmetics aisle. When he turns back toward the exit, Sam and Adam are waiting for him.

“Ready?” Sam asks, looking ready to shoot someone in the foot. Adam’s talking his ear off, about make-up brands and whether or not his sawn-off shotgun really goes with the whole post-collegiate look he’s got going on.

Tommy doesn’t bother answering, just pushes his cart full of Twinkies and various other sundry items out the doors and over toward the motel. Adam and Sam trail him, Sam keeping an eye out for any signs of attack and Adam keeping up his commentary on the differences between brands of eye make-up. They’re met at the Impala by Dean, who grins and holds up a set of keys with a plastic man and woman in white and black on the key chain.

“Guess what?” he announces. “There’s a bridal suite.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sibling rivalry abounds and Dean makes some new friends. Also, Sam hates the color pink.

Three hours later Dean was sprawled on the couch grinning as Sam twitched.  “Come on, Sammy, it’s just a little hair dye,” Dean drawled.

Sam glares.  “My hair is pink, Dean,” he says, sounding a little morose.  Tommy giggles from the bathroom.  “Shut up, this is your fault.”  Which isn’t strictly true, Tommy notes.  Pink and pink-streaked are two different things.  Although not when you’re six-foot-skyscraper and wear flannel as a regular part of your wardrobe.

“Hey, you’re the one who let Adam near you with the dye.  This is your own fault,” Tommy calls.  “Besides, my hair’s gonna be pink in another five minutes, too.”  Again, streaked, but using language the crazy people with guns can understand.  Which is somehow both an awkwardly frightening and extremely comforting thing to know about the Winchesters, that they’re proficient with firearms.

Dean cackles at Tommy.  Adam pokes his head out of the bathroom, his newly blue highlights plastered to his head from washing the dye out.  “We can do you too, Dean, if you want.”

With a shrug Dean points out, “I don’t have enough hair.”

“Aw,” Adam pouts.  “We could give you tips,” he suggests.

Dean shrugs.  “Whatever, dude.  Got any green left?”

“We didn’t get green,” Tommy calls from the bathroom, momentarily sad that he’s not going to get to see Dean with a green mohawk, because that would have been funny.  And kinda hot.  “I guess we could go back, if you want?”

“Nah.  Maybe next time?”

Tommy nods, before remembering Dean can’t see him and calling out “Yeah, sure,” instead.

And that’s when the explosion happens.  Luckily it’s nothing in the hotel, but it’s nearby and Sam and Dean are instantly on the alert, and Adam looks ready to bolt toward the door and escape at any second--assuming he doesn’t  just hide in the bathtub.  Tommy might join him.  You know, assuming things are going to continue exploding.

“Looks like the corner gas station,” Sam says, voice tense.

“Yup,” Dean agrees.  “You wanna?”

And then there’s another of those weird conversations done in tiny little body movements and finally Dean nods.  “If I’m not back in ten, take off.  And for hell’s sake,  don’t come get me.”

Sam rolls his eyes, as if this is a running argument between them, and Dean slides through the barely cracked motel room door.  Sam stays at the window, tense and ready for a fight, or to run, whatever he deems necessary.  But before they have to do either of those things, Dean comes back in, stomping and noisy and laughing, with two girls trailing him.  “Dean?” Sam asks, and Tommy wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled a knife on the two girls.

“Sammy, this is Faith and Willow,” Dean announces.

Tommy pokes his head out of the bathroom.  Adam grabs his arm and holds on, not tightly, but definitely with the intent of safety behind it.  The first thing Tommy notices about the girls is that they’re holding hands.  Which is kinda sweet, in that post-apocalyptic way.  The second thing he notices is that they’re totally not together.  Willow looks way too neurotic to be holding Faith’s hand for anything other than security reasons.  And Faith is barely paying attention to Willow, sizing up Sam and what she can see of Tommy and taking in the room.  As for the girls physically, Willow seems sort of soft and . . . willowy.  She’s not tall, but she has that sense of swaying movement that Tommy associates with her namesake tree.  She also looks scared out of her mind, her knuckles white where she grips Faith’s hand.  Faith on the other hand is the female equivalent of Dean; confident, self assured and more than able to handle herself, but laid-back enough that she can deal with whatever comes her way, whether it’s a rock concert or a zombie.  Also, she’s wearing leather pants.

“Faith and Willow?” Sam repeats, and Tommy decides to exit the bathroom.  Adam keeps a hold of his arm, and Tommy can practically feel the desire to protect vibrating through his hand and into Tommy.

“Yeah,” Dean nods.  “Faith, Willow, this is Sam, my brother, and that’s Tommy and Adam.  Adam’s the tall one who looks like an escapee from a KISS concert.”  Adam rolls his eyes at that.

“I did play with KISS once, you know.  They’re not as completely insane as you might expect,” Adam says, unhelpfully.

Faith nods at them, choosing to ignore Adam’s comment.  “Hey guys.  Good to meet you.”  She’s sizing up the pair of them as she talks.

“Dean!” Sam hisses.  “You can’t keep picking up strays!  It’s gonna get you in trouble.  It’s gonna get  us in trouble.”

“Dude, they just almost got blown up at that gas station and you want me to leave them there?  Besides, what would  you like to do with them?  Dump them in Nowheresville, Iowa while we drag the glam rock groupies across the state?”

“Hey,” Tommy says, mildly annoyed at being called a glam rock groupie.  “I prefer metal.”

Sam stares at him, as if this is the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, turning toward him.  “Which groups?”

“Well, metal in general, rock in particular.  You know, Depeche Mode, the Stones, Metallica.”  Tommy shrugs.

“Yeah?  So, do you prefer Master of Puppets or St. Anger better?  Because I always thought--”

“DEAN!”

“Oh, keep your socks on, Sammy.  Can’t a guy talk a little music without everyone jumping down his throat?”  Dean sighs, deep and longsuffering.

“Master of Puppets,” Tommy says, not bothering to comment on the sibling conflict.

Dean gives him an approving look.  “I like this one,” he says to Sam.  “And we’re keeping all the strays.  Honestly, you’d think your soul was missing again.”

“He’s not a vampire, is he?” Willow asks, speaking for the first time.  “Because while zombies are scary and not good, I could actually do something about it if he was a soulless vampire.”

“I’m not a vampire!” Sam snaps.  He looks mildly appalled a few seconds later when he realizes he’s just bitten the head off a cute red head for no reason, so he quickly adds, “Sorry.  You want anything?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could use your bathroom?  And maybe try and make a phone call?  I need to see if the Watcher’s Council is still standing, and if it’s possible to travel out of the United States,” Faith puts in, raising a finger lazily.

“Oh, sure thing, sweetheart,” Adam nods, pushing Tommy out of the doorway and then dragging him to the couch.  “Willow, why don’t you come sit with Tommy and me, okay?”

It takes less time than Tommy supposes it would to ascertain that no, the zombies that have been attacking aren’t necessarily supernatural, and that there are supernatural things in the world at large, like ghosts--”And Vampires!” Willow adds helpfully when Dean doesn’t seem about to list them--and demons, and that Sam and Dean are hunters and that Willow is a white witch--which elicits a very interesting reaction from Dean that includes crossing himself and making several different symbols Tommy recognizes as wards against the evil eye while muttering “skeevy skeevy skeevy.”  After Faith gets off the phone and announces that Buffy’s not letting the Slayerettes answer the phones at the Council, assuming it’s still standing in the first place, Willow makes her explain about Slayers and hellmouths and a town in California called Sunnydale.

Once all that’s finished and explained and filed away--and if he’s honest, Tommy didn’t get most of it, but he figures he can ask again when he needs the information--they decide how to divide up who sleeps and who gets the first watch.  Tommy listens to their division of duties interstedly, because this was the practical part, after all, and when they’re done, offers to put streaks in Faith’s hair if she’d like.  In the end, Adam and Tommy have first-watch.  Tommy thinks this is probably because Dean and Faith don’t expect to get into REM sleep before the first shift is over and theirs begins.  Sam and Willow will take third, then wake everyone else up when it’s light out and they can go.

Keeping watch is easy enough.  He and Adam sit on the couch Dean shoved under the window and talk about music and where they’d be right now if the apocalypse hadn’t interrupted eveyone’s lives.  “Looking for work,” Tommy admits.  “It’s about time I man up and get a real job.  I’m like, fucking thirty, you know?  Being in a band professionally’s not gonna happen for me.”  He shrugs.  “Maybe I’d have finally put that accounting degree to good use.”

“You studied to be an accountant?” Adam grins.  “Aw.  That’s so cute.  You have a fall-back plan.”

“Not like I ever really intended to use it,” Tommy points out.  “But Moms are smart sometimes, you know?”

Adam nods.  “Yeah.”

“So what about you.  What would you be doing right now if the earth was sans Zombie?”

“Auditioning,” Adam says, smiling.  “I just need a bass player and I’d have my band set.  You don’t play bass, by any chance?”

“I could learn,” Tommy shrugs.  “Can’t be that hard.”

“And once I was done getting my band set, I’d be prepping for my tour.  My debut album and I barely got to promote it.”  He sighs wistfully and turns back to Tommy with a careful little shrug.  “I guess no one wants to listen to glam rock when they’re being attacked by the undead, huh?”

They watch in silence for a while, until the alarm Tommy set on his phone goes off and he moves to wake up Dean and Faith.  He slides into the now free bed and motions Adam over.  “Come on.  Keep me company while I try to fall asleep.”  They stretch out together, and it’s not long until Adam is dreaming, making soft little mumbles and huffs, like he’s talking or maybe singing unconsciously.  Tommy falls asleep petting Adam’s hair, his last thought something vague about how Adam looks lost and child-like when he’s asleep, all that glitter and make up making him look like a kid playing dress up.

***


End file.
